


Nice To Meet You

by EllisJay



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Lust at First Sight, One Shot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:41:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24591724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllisJay/pseuds/EllisJay
Summary: Jaime isn't sure what happened last night, but he knows it needs to happen again.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 101
Kudos: 380





	Nice To Meet You

**Author's Note:**

> This is me basically shaking off my writer's rust. I wrote this in a feverish hurry last night, and am posting before I chicken out. I scanned for mistakes, but if there are any more, just know that they were missed in my hurry to actually post this instead of thinking it.

When Jaime wakes up alone, the sheets tangled around him, the scent of sex still in the air, he can’t say that he’s surprised. He may not have the vast experience that his brother has, but even he knows that very few nights like the one he had experienced ended with morning snuggles and flirting over a cup of coffee.

Not being surprised doesn’t mean he isn’t disappointed, however.

As he lays in bed alone, the disappointment is probably the most predominant emotion he feels. There are other emotions of course…a bit of bafflement because what the hell had gotten into him last night? A strong tug of smug satisfaction at the way his body feels, loose and used and so fucking good. Frustration because despite getting quite intimately acquainted with the woman he had seen so many times, he realizes he still has zero knowledge of her, other than her name. Disappointment looms largest, though, because he is lying in bed with his cock hard and aching, and she had slipped out at some point while he slept.

The sheets beside him were still fairly warm so he knows she didn’t creep out of his bed and house long before he awoke, and he does some find some pleasure in that, knowing that she must have slept here beside him. He could finally approach her at the gym, of course, but if she switched times to avoid him, then what? He wouldn’t be surprised if she did. Destroying a man in bed and then leaving without a word didn’t exactly scream that she wanted to continue their acquaintance.

The idea that she might have left a note trips through his mind, and he scrambles out of the bed at the thought, moving quickly out of his room and down the hall. His eyes scan across his living room and then the kitchen, searching for anything…a Post-It note, a number scribbled on the back of a receipt, a business card, anything at all. But his home is just as he had left it the night before.

Disappointment surged again, mixed with a trace of bitterness. So maybe he wasn’t cut out for one-night stands, maybe he didn’t have tons of experience in this area, but surely he hadn’t imagined what had happened last night. Not just the sex, though gods that had been amazing. Life-changing even. But the connection…had he imagined that? He had felt it from the moment his eyes had met hers, a quiet click that assured him meeting this woman was exactly what he was supposed to be doing with his life. He had thought she had felt it too.

And okay, maybe he should have spent more time talking to her about who she was and who he was, their jobs and life stories or whatever the fuck people talked about when they met in a bar, but it had been so hard to focus with all that lust pumping through his system. How was he supposed to ask what she did for a living when her eyes were ripping through him and twisting his stomach into shaky little knots? And surely it had been more important to ask her how much she could bench rather than where she had grown up? Especially when he could barely drag his eyes away from her broad shoulders, and the skin and muscles of her arms? He thought he had time to figure out more about her once he could focus on something other than the idea of her long, long legs wrapped around his hips.

He would have asked today. Maybe not immediately because he imagined she was even more irresistibly sexy when she was soft and warm and rumpled by sleep so of course he would have had to have her one more time. But after morning sex and maybe a shared shower, he would have been happy to make her a cup of coffee and spend several nights and days and weekends getting to know everything about her. Perhaps he should have told her that he didn’t really do one-offs.

Maybe then she would have stayed.

Jaime wandered back to his room, intent on throwing himself on the bed and wallowing in his misery. He was an expert wallower, according to his brother. A champion brooder. Masterful at pouting, even. He was going to earn every single one of his titles this morning, or at least that was his intention.

At least until he saw a glint from the floor, slightly buried under his boxers from the night before. Because when he bent and picked up an unfamiliar phone, he no longer felt like pouting at all.

For him, it had started from the first moment he had seen her, nearly three months ago. He usually went to the gym right after work, to sweat out some of the frustration that inevitably built throughout his day, to run and lift and hit until he no longer felt like setting his office on fire and running away to a new country. That day, though, the day he had seen her, he had gone in before work since he had a meeting afterwards that would keep him chained to his desk til well after dark.

After ten minutes in there, he had questioned why he had never come in the morning before. There were far less people in there which meant he was able to use the equipment without waiting, and there were less women that stared at him and “forgot” how to use the machines. It was far more peaceful, and far more efficient, and he was already half sold on changing his routines when he had caught sight of her.

He had been jogging on the treadmill, slowly winding down, staring blindly at the mirrored wall in front of him, and suddenly there she was. His first impression was of her size…tall, taller than him perhaps, and broad shouldered, her muscles rippling as she bent into a squat, at least 250 pounds braced on her shoulders. He watched her lower her body, back straight, thighs and arms and ass flexing just so, and felt his cock spring to life in his loose shorts.

She grunted, a low, animalistic sound that he immediately wanted to hear muffled against his neck, straightened smoothly, and then lowered again, her fantastic body rising and lowering in a steady rhythm as his pants got increasingly tight. He didn’t even realize he had frozen until his foot caught the end of the treadmill and he went sprawling onto the floor.

So maybe not the ideal first impression, but Jaime was confident he would be able to rectify it. He could wait a day or two, hope she forgot the idiot that didn’t even know how to run on a treadmill while she was off slinging weights like a professional lifter. After all, he was handsome, and charming, and funny, and rich. When it came down to it, he wasn’t a bad catch. At least good enough to engage her in conversation and let nature take its course.

And yet as the days passed, he couldn’t quite bring himself to approach her. He wasn’t intimidated, of course not, but he was…respectful. She obviously took her gym time seriously, and he knew what it felt like to be pestered by the opposite sex during a workout. It felt more important for her to get used to him so that when he finally made his move, he wasn’t just the dumbass that fell to the floor but rather that cute guy from the gym.

He made a point to get up earlier than usual, shifting his workouts to the mornings, and discovered he should have done so much sooner. Not only was he able to work out in peace, but he could hit the showers and dress right at the gym, swing by Hot Pie’s for a coffee and a bagel, and go to work fully awake and in a surprisingly good mood. Plus, there was the added benefit of watching her go through her routine, which if nothing else assured him that his libido was still in excellent condition as he approached his fortieth birthday.

After all, you couldn’t be too careful.

Watching her was the best of all, though. He was able to pick up little things about her that way, which would surely help once he finally spoke to her. Basic things, yes, like the way she alternated between the treadmill and the rowing machine for cardio every day, ignoring the elliptical and the bicycle as if they didn’t exist. She would do a five-minute stretch cooldown, which only made him hard the first dozen or so times he witnessed it, and then move onto the rest of her routine. She varied her workouts…one day arms, another legs, another back. But she worked her abs every single day without fail.

From the glimpse he had gotten of her belly when she lifted her shirt to wipe the sweat from her gloriously red face, he could attest that it was worth the effort.

She didn’t come at all on Wednesdays, or if she did it was after he had left for the day. She listened to something through her earbuds, and he was guessing it was music based on the way he had caught her shoulders shifting and her head nodding once or twice. She chugged water like her life depended on it, refilling her bottle at least twice each visit. Her athletic gear was actual gear rather than sexy pieces of clothing designed to make her look attractive. She wore loose shorts and tee shirts mostly, but the first time she showed up in cropped, fitted pants and a wide strapped tank, he had to hide in the bathroom for five minutes to get control of himself.

She rarely spoke, and when she did her voice was low and terse, and while she ignored pretty much everyone, she would always stop to help the bumbling high school kid out, adjusting his motions with an intent look on her face. Every so often, she would storm into the gym, her face mutinous, and head directly for the heavy bag in the corner where she would beat the shit out of it until she was bent over, hands on knees, breathing heavily.

He thought about offering to wrestle with her, to help her channel some of that aggression, but his brain told him that was probably a bad idea. The way his belly clenched at the thought of it and the swiftness in which he had hardened had told him it would be worth the embarrassment.

It had taken him four visits, four sightings before he realized she was rather ugly. Or rather she should have been. Intellectually, he could see it. Her face was a mix-match of parts, like she had been put together from spare pieces…her nose bent and crooked, her lips too big for her face, and always chapped from the way she dug her slightly crooked teeth into them as she worked. She was pale and freckled, and would turn nearly scarlet all over as she built up steam. Her hair was like straw, limp and straight with barely any curl at all to it. She was tall. And broad. And mannish, really, with only the most basic dips to suggest a hint of breasts and hips. He should not be interested in her at all, much less fantasize about all the ways she could hold his body onto any flat surface and take him however she pleased.

Her one inarguably beautiful feature were her eyes, and in his mind they more than made up for the laugh the gods must have had when they formed her. Wide and framed by long, pale lashes, they were the most startlingly shade of blue he had ever seen. And it wasn’t just their color, that almost unnatural sapphire, but the expression in them. When she exercised, they were focused and determined. When she helped the helpless teenager, they were patient and kind. When she beat the hell out of the punching bag, they were fire. Everything she felt seemed to shine out of them like a beacon.

And okay her body wasn’t feminine. He would agree with that. But fuck was it sexy. She was just so big and strong and broad. Even her hands were wide. He imagined she had callouses from the lifting she did, and the idea of her rough skin stroking his own, sliding over his back, clutching his hair, gripping his cock…well. He wanted to know what her hands felt like, if they felt as good in reality as they did in his imagination.

Three months after he had first caught sight of her, he still hadn’t managed to approach her, though he didn’t know why. He may not have slept with every woman who smiled at him, but he had enough experience to be reasonably confident in his ability to approach a woman he was interested in, to introduce himself and try and make her laugh. Yet every time he convinced himself that today would be the day he made his move, he found himself hesitant. He wasn’t quite sure why, but he couldn’t quite make himself take that leap no matter how much his body begged him to.

And then, like something out of a movie, she walked into Lottie’s Pocket with a small group of friends, striding to the bar on the long legs he had admired so much. He had sat straight up from where he was slumped in the booth, setting his drink down with a thump. He had never seen her in anything but workout gear, had wanted her past the point of sanity in it, but seeing her in cuffed jeans, a black button up, and Chucks was simply too much for him to bear. Especially with a few drinks in his system.

Tyrion had noticed right away, of course. His little brother noticed everything.

“Who is she?” he asked, his sharp gaze moving from the bar to Jaime.

“Who?” Jaime asked, indifferent. Well, he thought it was indifferent, but Tyrion’s laugh suggested otherwise.

“The ugly blonde with legs longer than my entire body,” his brother said dryly, throwing the rest of his drink back.

“She’s not ugly,” Jaime snapped, glaring at his brother. “Don’t call her ugly.”

His brother’s brow slowly climbed into an arch as he studied Jaime. He didn’t speak for a long moment, and Jaime did his best to ignore him as he watched the Amazon from the corner of his eye. “So?” Tyrion finally asked. “Who is she?”

“I don’t know exactly,” Jaime said. “She goes to my gym.”

“That’s it?” Tyrion asked incredulously.

“What?”

“She walks in here, and you come to immediate attention.” Jaime glared as Tyrion’s eyes flicked down meaningfully, a smirk on his face. “And you’re staring at her in a frankly embarrassing manner, and all you can say is she is some girl who goes to your gym? Jaime.” He sighed now, pressing his hand to his face. “Brother, sometimes you make it difficult to like you.”

“Well you’re not exactly always loveable yourself,” Jaime grumbled, his eyes flitting over to the bar again. She looked more relaxed and at ease than he had ever seen her, chatting with the slender redheaded girl who had walked in beside her. She had a small smile on her face as she listened to whatever her friend was saying, and Jaime stared, captivated by the way it made her face glow, softening the harsher lines.

“Jaime,” Tyrion said more firmly, and Jaime forced his eyes over to his brother. “In all the years I’ve been your brother, I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen you show genuine interest in a woman. It happens rarely, true, but you’ve never been shy about it before. What’s the problem?”

Jaime’s fingers drummed restlessly on the table. “It’s hard to describe,” he said after a moment. “I’ve never…” His gaze flicked back over to the bar then to his brother once more. “I’ve never had this sort of reaction to a woman before. I don’t quite know what to do about it.”

Tyrion smirked even as he huffed out a laugh. “Do I need to talk you through it? Because you look like you know exactly what to do about it. Or at least like you know what you want to do about it.” His face softened a little, though he still looked far too amused for Jaime’s liking. “Just go talk to her. That’s pretty much always the first step.”

“I know that.”

“Then I’m still not seeing the issue.”

Jaime turned slightly in his seat, angling his body so that he could keep an eye on her as she gestured with her beer, deep in conversation. He wouldn’t have guessed that he would have this reaction to her in jeans, not after seeing her in yoga pants, but there was something about the long expanse of her leg, the muscular curve of her ass, and the flash of ankle under the cuff that was making it hard for him to think. He wanted to slide his hand across her thigh, run a finger under the band of her pants, the use it to tug her towards him. For a moment he could see it so clearly that his fingers twitched on the table, to say nothing of what was happening in his own jeans below.

“Gods, you’re pathetic,” Tyrion muttered. “Stop staring at her, it’s creepy. Women don’t like to just be stared at in bars while they’re drinking with their friend. Either stop imagining her naked or get off your ass and go talk to her in the hopes you can achieve that goal.”

Before Jaime could snap back, a loud, uninhibited laugh filled the air, and his head swiveled towards the sound immediately. It was her. Of course, it was her. Her head was tipped back, the long line of her throat bare to his gaze, and he was lost again. He wanted to drag his nose and then his teeth down that skin, wanted to feel her moans as they worked their way out of her mouth, wanted to swallow them down. He wondered what she smelled like there, along the line of her jaw, what she tasted like.

Her laughter was like sunshine. He wondered if her skin tasted of it as well.

Her laughter stopped as her eyes roamed across the bar and stopped suddenly, locked on his. The smile fell from her face even as her eyes rounded with surprise, her mouth parting slightly. He wondered what she saw. Did she recognize him from the gym? He wasn’t even sure she ever paid him attention, not like he did her. Did she see a random guy staring at her? Could she read the hunger he felt was stamped across his face? He watched as she murmured something to her friend, who immediately glanced over, her lips pulling into a smirk.

“Fuck it,” he said, quickly untucking his shirt under the table in hopes it would hide the worst of his problem. “I’ll catch up with you later,” he told Tyrion, getting to his feet, not taking his eyes off the woman at the bar.

“I sincerely hope you don’t,” Tyrion laughed.

Jaime ignored him and began walking towards the bar, completely focused on her. He had no idea what he was going to say when he reached her, but he had faith something would come out of his mouth. Something other than informing her of how very much he wanted her to pin him against the bar and fuck him with her battered Converse still on.

Her friend was making a discreet exit, Jaime was relieved to see, though it didn’t look like the blonde shared that feeling. She hadn’t taken her eyes off Jaime, but she was speaking urgently to her companion, who couldn’t stop smiling. She darted off just as Jaime drew up to them, and he had to take a deep breath through his nose when he got to feel those blue eyes on him in such a close space.

“Hi,” he said after a moment. “My name’s Jaime.” He inwardly cursed himself but powered through. “We go to the same gym.”

“Um…I know. I mean, yes, we do.” Her teeth dug into her lower lip and it took every bit of restraint he had not to lean forward and do the same. “I’ve seen you there.”

“I’ve seen you there too,” he said, smiling now. He waited a beat, but she just watched him with her big eyes, and he had the uncomfortable sensation that she was seeing far more than what most people saw. 

“So…your name?”

“Brienne. My name’s Brienne.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Brienne.” He could feel his smile growing into something helpless and goofy but was powerless to stop it. It felt so good to have finally taken this step, to learn her name and give her his. He liked the way it sounded in her mouth, the way her deep voice stretched over the syllables.

He was very much looking forward to all the ways he could make her say it.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked, tamping down on the direction of his thoughts.

Brienne’s eyes flickered over his shoulder, her tongue peeking out to drag across her bitten lip, completely unaware of what the image did to him. He watched as her brow furrowed for a moment before smoothing out with an exhale. “I suppose so,” she said.

“Excellent,” Jaime said, immediately taking the seat her friend had been kind enough to vacate, waving to catch the attention of the bartender. “So…how much can you bench?”

He still isn’t sure how he went from working up the courage to approach her and offer to buy her a drink to waking up naked and alone in his bed. It was completely out of character for him, and for her as well if his gut were to be trusted. She had been a little shy in the beginning, a little uncertain, but had slowly relaxed as they discussed workouts and the merits of low reps for gains versus high reps for cardio. She had relaxed, and he had relaxed, and by the end of the first hour and their second shared drink, his hand was on her knee, and her fingers were wrapped around his forearm, and he was asking her if she wanted to go back to his place.

She had blushed, her skin staining with the same glorious red it did at the gym but had nodded then moved to stand. For just a moment she towered over him, and Jaime had the sudden image of cupping the backs of her thighs and drawing her into his lap, how she would look with him at her mercy, using those magnificent thighs to ride him until he broke.

Something of his thoughts must have shown clearly on his face because she inhaled sharply, her eyes darkening on his. She didn’t speak, but simply held his gaze as he drew to his feet, then curled her fingers around his when he took her hand, leading her from the bar.

He kissed her for the first time outside of the bar, pressed against the wall in the shadows as they waited for their ride. He had never kissed a woman taller than him, but found he liked the way he had to angle his head up, the way his calves flexed as he lifted and pressed against her. Even more he liked the way her fingers felt in his hair, tightening and pulling as her mouth opened on his, her tongue sliding against his own, sending a jolt along his spine as he deepened the kiss, reveling in his first taste of her. His hands slid from where they were framing her face, gliding over the strong expanse of her shoulder, curving around her firm biceps, and hauling her closer, their bodies pressed together from lip to hip.

They kissed until his phone beeped with the notification informing him their ride was approaching, growing hungrier and dirtier until her fists were clenched in the fabric of his shirt and his were underneath hers, resting on the small of her back, his thigh pressed insistently between hers. When he finally wrenched himself away, she had been staring at him with wide eyes, her lips swollen and her skin flushed, and he couldn’t resist leaning in for one more quick nip at her mouth, sucking her bottom lip between his teeth. “Come on,” he said hoarsely.

The seven-minute ride to his townhouse was either the best seven minutes of his life or the worst. After he had confirmed his address, Brienne had allowed him to draw her back into his arms, her mouth opening to his immediately. He had felt like a teenager a little, making out furiously in the backseat of a car, his cock throbbing inside his pants. He was slightly concerned that he would come the minute she got her hands on it but couldn’t seem to bring himself to stop kissing her, to stop touching her.

It didn’t help that she was moving restlessly on the seat beside him, her long thighs clenching together to quell the ache she obviously felt. He wanted to relieve it for her, right there in the car. Pull down her zipper and ease his hand inside her jeans and down to her skin, letting her ride his fingers until she cried out his name. Instead his hand clenched on her hip, dragging her as close as she could get without straddling him, and set his teeth on the tender skin of her neck, growling when she choked back a moan of pleasure.

He had thrown money at the driver, more intent on dragging her out of the backseat than on paying attention to what he gave him. Based on the babbling that he received he could only assume it was too much. He didn’t care. He needed to get Brienne inside his home, needed to strip off her clothes until she was naked and sprawled in his bed, and then taste every single long, strong inch of her. From the way she scrambled out of the seat behind him, the way she kissed him back as he pressed her against the door and fumbled for his keys, he could only assume that she agreed.

The minute the door shut behind them, they were on each other. Shoes were kicked off hastily, mouths breaking apart to drag socks off, then meeting again once they fell to the floor. Their hands fumbled over each other as he backed her through the foyer, his fingers tangling as they navigated the buttons of her shirt, grunting when he had to pause so she could haul his shirt over his head. “Gods,” he grunted as she pressed her hands into his chest, her fingers digging in slightly before they skimmed downward, her thumb brushing across his belly button before curling firmly into his hipbones. “I knew your hands would feel this good.”

She murmured his name, and he could hear the embarrassment in it, lurking beneath the desire, so he kissed her again, desperate to steal it from her mouth before she could set it loose in the room with them. His fingers moved swiftly now, unbuttoning her shirt and sliding the fabric open so that his knuckles could drag across her belly. When the last button popped free, he grabbed it by the lapels so he could tug it from her body, and then realized she wasn’t wearing a bra, her small, firm breasts on glorious display. “Oh fuck,” he bit out. “Fuck, Brienne.” He abandoned her shirt, still hanging by one wrist, and skipped his mouth along her clavicle, tongue and teeth tasting the surprisingly delicate skin there, before arrowing down to close over one pink, puckered nipple.

It was her turn to moan, a low, throaty sound that shot straight towards his cock. He cupped her free breast with his hand, his thumb tracing her nipple in rhythm with the pull of his mouth on the other. She had her free hand curled into his hair, holding him close, keening and arching her back as he set his teeth to her, insistently shaking the hand with the shirt dangling from her wrist. Frustrated, he released her breast with both mouth and hand, grabbing onto the fabric and yanking it off and letting it fall to the floor.

“Come here,” he demanded, sliding his arms around her waist and tugging her into him, suddenly desperate to feel her naked chest against his own. “You feel so good, Brienne. Gods, you’re so strong. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted my hands on you.” He pressed his mouth against her again, teeth and tongue sliding sloppily against her own. “How many times I’ve thought about it.”

“How long?” she gasped, her head falling backward so that he could mouth her jaw and throat, His lips closed over her rapidly fluttering pulse, sucking lightly before dragging his teeth across the same spot, delighted when her body jolted and her hips pressed against his.

“Since the first day I saw you,” he said, moving her backwards again, down the hallway, his hands splayed over the curve of her ass to squeeze for a moment before they streaked to the snap of her jeans. “Months. You’re the best part about going in the morning.”

“What?” she gasped, stumbling a little as their feet tangled together as they danced down the hallway.

“It’s true,” he told her, his mouth moving upward to cover her ear. “Did you really not know?” His fingers deftly undid her jeans, tugging her zipper down impatiently, eager to get why lay behind it. His thumbs were hooking into the sides of her pants, catching the thin band of her panties, as he angled her towards his open bedroom door, suddenly thankful he had left the lamp on. “Fuck Brienne…I literally fell off the treadmill the first time I saw you.” He shoved at her jeans, anchoring an arm around her waist so that she could finish pushing them down and step out of them, leaving her wonderfully naked.

“I thought that was…” she trailed off, her own fingers working at his pants as he hurried them to his bed.

“Was what?” he asked, biting back a relieved grunt as she tugged at his zipper, thankful for the extra room.

“I didn’t think it was lust,” she said shyly, her cheeks red again.

Jaime impatiently stepped out of the rest of his clothes, leaving his body as bare and open as hers. They both paused for a beat, eyes trailing over each other, and then they were tumbling onto his bed, arms and legs tangled.

“You were doing squats,” he told her, his voice muffled around her breast briefly as he eased down her body. “Two hundred and fifty pounds.” His teeth raked across her ribs, then his mouth closed around the soft skin near her navel, sucking a bruise into it. “Gods, your abs are ridiculous.” He continued his journey, stopping briefly to bite down on her hip bone, pressing her into his sheets as her hips rolled restlessly, her hands lifting to push his hair back as he looked up at her. “You were just strong and steady, all your muscles bunching and flexing, and I couldn’t take my eyes off your ass. Off your thighs, your back. You had me so hard within seconds. That was the first time, but not the last. You have no idea how many times I’ve had to go and hide in the locker room, waiting for my cock to go down.”

“Jaime,” she said, her voice catching a little as his breath moved over the sensitive skin of her cunt where she was already wet and swollen. “Men don’t get…men don’t get like that over me.”

“I’m not like other men, Brienne,” he said, and had never been more thankful for it. He didn’t want anyone else touching her, tasting her, having her. Possessiveness flared in him, and he had the urge to mark every inch of her alabaster skin, to press his claim into her visibly with his mouth and teeth. “I’m happy to show you as many times as you want.”

Her response was choked away by the long, low moan that fell from her mouth as he set his mouth on her lightly, no longer able to wait to know what she tasted like. Her hands curled into his hair, her thighs falling open wider against his shoulders, and Jaime lost himself in the sensation of her. He had never considered himself a man with an addictive personality, but within moments he knew he would never get enough of this, enough of her. The salty, musky taste of her, the slippery wetness that coated his chin, the way her large hand cupped the back of his head as her hips lifted helplessly against his face…everything about the moment nearly overwhelmed him.

“Jaime,” she groaned as the blade of his tongue spread her open for his lips.

“Jaime,” she whimpered when he closed his mouth lightly around her clit, setting the edge of his teeth against it as he suckled lightly.

“Jaime,” she gasped when two fingers easily slid inside her, pulsing and curling in her tight heat.

He had never thought much about his name, but he was convinced there was nothing better than all the many ways she said it, lost in the pleasure and desire and want that was spearing through her body. Her fingers curled tightly in his hair, holding him still while her legs curled around his back, and she steadily fucked herself on his face and fingers.

“You taste so fucking good,” he told her, pleased when she ground herself more forcefully against him. “You’re so tight, Brienne, so wet. I can’t wait to fuck you, to feel you around me.” He circled her clit with his tongue then nudged it with his nose. “Do you know how many times I’ve thought about doing this at the gym? Just laying you down on the bench and sinking to my knees? Peel those sweaty shorts off of you and fuck you with my tongue right there?”

“Jaime,” she moaned, her hips moving insistently now. “Fuck. Fuck. I’m so close, please.”

“Or how many times I’ve watched you squat, watched your back just ripple, and wondered if you’d let me drag you to the locker room? There’s a bench in there too. Or you could drag me in there, force me onto it, and then use all those muscles to just fuck me raw.”

“Fuck,” Brienne wailed, her head falling back, her jaw clenching. “Just…oh, gods, more. More.”

He smirked against her, even though his cock was throbbing and leaking onto the sheet below him, sliding a third finger inside her even as he bent his mouth to her clit again. He sucked more firmly this time, flicking his tongue against her to the rhythm of his fingers, and then crooked them slightly.

It was enough. Brienne’s entire body tensed as her back curved off his bed, her grip turning painful as she cried out and held him against her cunt, her hips undulating forcefully. The rush of wetness and the feel of her pulsing around his fingers had his own hips pressing urgently to the bed, desperate for friction and pressure. She was gasping for breath, light tremors wracking her body, when he eased himself from between her thighs.

Their eyes locked, and he swore to himself that this would not be the last time he saw her like this, heavy lidded and well sated. He kept his eyes on hers as he lifted his wet fingers from between her thighs and circled her nipple with them, coating her skin with the sticky fluid. “Brienne,” he murmured before leaning forward and taking her nipple in the mouth, relishing the shocked gasp that escaped her mouth, her hands coming up to curve into his shoulders. “Can I fuck you? I’ve wanted to for so long.”

“Yes,” she breathed. “Yes. You can fuck me, Jaime. I…I’ve wanted it too.”

He was the one who shuddered this time, his belly clenching at the idea that the whole time he had been watching her, wanting her, she had been doing the same to him. The idea that when he had gripped his cock and stroked himself to the thought of her, she had been in her own bed, head thrown back, fingers buried in her body with thoughts of him.

He surged up to kiss her hungrily, suddenly desperate again, and then moved quickly to dig through his bedside drawer. It only took a moment before he had condom located, opened, and on, and he was scrambling back to Brienne, who was still watching him with dark eyes. He kissed her fiercely, sucking on her tongue for a moment before pulling back to look at her. “Will you ride me?” he growled. “Gods, Brienne, I want you to fuck me.”

She sat up, her mouth pressing against his briefly before slipping down, her teeth biting his chin lightly, raking over the thin skin of his throat, closing over the apple she found there before laving her tongue into the dip between his collarbones. Heat rushed through his veins at the feel of her tongue and teeth on his body, throbbing in his veins, his cock jerking against the skin of her thigh. No, he would never get enough of this. Enough of her.

Brienne pinned him with her eyes as she shoved him backward, his breath leaving his body at the image of her above him, hair soft and tousled, eyes dark and hungry but with that gleam of satisfaction he had left there. “Please,” he gasped, his voice low and broken. “Brienne.”

A small smile tugged at her lips as she straddled him, her fingers lifting to toy with one nipple as she settled herself over his body. He could only gape in wonder and a shocked lust as she trailed her hand down her torso, her long fingers traveling over the same skin his mouth had explored, down over her navel, right to the crux of her thighs where she sat perched above him. “Fuck,” he bit out, his eyes glued to that long finger as it teased around her still-sensitive clit. She let out a little breathless whimper that had him wrapping his hand around the base of his cock, squeezing himself firmly in an attempt to hold off.

Watching Brienne play with herself as she prepared to fuck him was more than he had ever allowed himself to fantasize about. He felt like he was on fire, every muscle in his body flexing in a desperate hope for control. “Brienne,” he growled, his voice slurring her name slightly. “Please. Please fuck me. Fuck me. I can’t…” His words disappeared into a strangled cry as she lifted herself up, fitted his body to hers, and then slid down.

She set a punishing pace, apparently aware that he was too close to the edge for slowness, that he wanted to come perhaps more than he had ever wanted anything in his forty years of life. His fingers dug into her hips, the flare of pain sparking into heat in her eyes as she leaned forward to grip his headboard, her arms and stomach and thighs flexing as she rode him furiously, her eyes boring into his even as desperate little sounds began to escape her mouth.

“Fuck,” Jaime moaned, jerking his head as he felt pressure beginning to tickle at the base of his spine. “Brienne. Oh fuck, you feel amazing, so good. I knew you would be this good, I knew you would…” He choked on his words as she leaned forward, changing the angle slightly, and a deep moan fell from her lips.

“Jaime,” she gasped, her voice rough and ragged, tripping along his nerves, his body starting to tense under hers. “Gods, Jaime. Oh right, right there.” She ground down on him furiously as she spoke, and then lowered her hand to her clit again, her finger flying as quickly as her hips. He batted her hand away to use his own, wanting to come desperately, but needing her to go with him, needing to feel her cunt clenched down on him. “Yes,” she gasped. “Yes, yes, yes, yes.” Her body began to tighten on his, her hips erratic, and he surged upward to kiss her, desperate for her mouth. They kissed sloppily, panting in each other’s mouths, as they both hurtled towards release.

“Brienne,” he whispered. “Please. I can’t.” And then he was there, his grip on her hips tightening even more as his own slammed upward, his orgasm rocketing through him, his body convulsing with pleasure. He bit down on her throat as she cried out, her cunt clamping down on his sensitive cock, prolonging what was without a doubt, the best climax of his life.

Jaime collapsed on the bed, pulling her with him, and simply held her as they both shuddered their way through the aftermath. If anyone had asked Jaime before if he had experienced good sex in his life, he would have been confident that the answer was yes. He knew that was foolish now, though, now that he had been with Brienne. He hadn’t even known what sex could be like apparently because nothing had ever been like this before.

She murmured his name into his throat, and he had to kiss her, to feel it in his mouth, to whisper hers back. A soft sort of contentment washed over him, an easiness he had never experienced before.

There would be time for action later. A condom to be dealt with, a warm rag and a cool drink to be offered, but for now, Jaime just held onto the woman in his arms, and basked in the moment.

Waking up without her hadn’t been part of his plan. Waking up without her even in the house had definitely not been part of it. As he lay in bed and replayed the events of the night before, Jaime couldn’t help but feel confused and hurt. He knew fucking, and he knew that what they had experienced the night before had been far more than that. Not just for him, but for her. He had seen it clearly in her eyes, felt it in her touch, even if he hadn’t heard it in her voice.

He forced himself off the bed again, ignoring his still hard cock, and grabbed a pair of sweatpants. He would make coffee, try to clear his brain, and think of what to do next. Her phone was locked so he couldn’t contact any of her friends, but surely someone would call at some point. Or he could ask around at the gym. Surely, she knew somebody there who would give him more information. Or he could just park himself at the gym and wait for her to show up. It was possible she would switch gym times to avoid him, but he couldn’t see her switching gyms. That just seemed excessive.

He wandered back out into his home, her phone slid into his pocket, and wondered what he would do if she did switch gyms. Go to every gym in Kings Landing, asking if they had a female version of the Warrior on their client list? Put an ad in the paper? A billboard in the square? He was fairly sure that reeked of desperation, but to be honest he was feeling a bit desperate at the moment. He couldn’t just let her get away, it was unthinkable.

As he made his way into the kitchen, a knock sounded on his door, hesitant but clear, and he felt everything inside him light up. He had to restrain himself from sprinting to the door and yanking it open, but couldn’t help moving swiftly. It had to be her. And if it was, if she had come back, he wouldn’t let her escape this time. Not without giving him her number, or her address, or her ring size.

He took a deep breath, said a prayer to gods he wasn’t sure he actually believed in, and opened the door.

It was her, standing on his steps in the same clothes she had worn last night, her face fresh and clear of makeup, her hair still tousled but somewhat neater than the last time he had seen it, glowing against his pillows. Her cheeks were pink, her lip was firmly between her teeth, and her eyes were hesitant. But she was here, and that’s all that mattered. “Morning,” she said softly.

“You came back.”

Her brow crinkled a bit, but she just nodded. “I didn’t go far,” she told him. “I didn’t know how to work your coffee machine, so I just…” she shrugged then, and he finally noticed the tray in her hand. “I didn’t know how you liked yours, so I just grabbed black. I thought if you were a cream and sugar guy you probably had some here.” When he didn’t say anything, too busy reveling in the knowledge that she hadn’t really left him, she continued. 

“And I grabbed some pastries too. A couple of different ones. Just in case you were hungry. I mean, I don’t plan on staying, I don’t want to…”

“Why not?” Jaime asked desperately, reaching out to take the tray and bag from her, stepping back to let her in. He set everything down on the side table then turned to look at her, watching her fidget nervously. “Why don’t you plan on staying?”

“I mean…” her eyes flittered around his foyer before finally settling on his. “That’s not how this works, right? I don’t usually do…I don’t usually go home with men I don’t know, but I just thought…”

“Thought what?” he asked, taking a step closer to her. “That I’ve been lusting over you for three months and now that I finally know how fucking amazing you feel and taste and sound, that I wouldn’t want you to stay?”

“I don’t expect…” she huffed out a breath. “I was trying to make it easier for you. I didn’t think you’d want me to hang around too long.”

“But you came back anyway.” He took another step, biting back a smile when she lifted her chin defiantly.

“It seemed rude to not at least say goodbye.”

“Brienne.” He placed his hands on her hips, right where they had dug into her skin last night as she rode him furiously. “I don’t care about rude. I don’t want you to say goodbye at all.”

“What should I say then?” she asked, tentatively reaching up to press her hands against his bare chest, her fingers stroking a little before they settled and sending a fresh wave of heat tingling along his body.

“How about I say…my name is Jaime Lannister. And you are?”

She smiled a little, her eyes brightening on his and the knot in his chest eased away. She really was like sunlight. “I’m Brienne Tarth.”

“Brienne Tarth,” he smiled back. “It is very nice to finally meet you.” And then he was tugging her close, covering her mouth with his own and tugging her body close to his. “Now, I’d very much like to take you back to my bed and show you how very glad I am to make your acquaintance.”

Brienne’s laugh, loud and joyful and bright as summer, rang out in the hallway as he tugged her back towards his room. “But what about coffee?”

“We’ll get to it eventually,” Jaime grinned. “I promise.”

And they did. If it was over breakfast the next morning, neither of them minded a bit.


End file.
